With Boots On
by Kelly123
Summary: He's here. And Craig isn't. Screw Craig...by screwing Jesse. ONESHOT


_I hate Craig right now. Like, HATE him. Such a jackass. Nevermind the whole "cocaine addiction" thing, he's still a jackass. How dare he lie to my dear sweet Ellie! Play with her emotions so carelessly! And snort coke! JACKASS! So after I saw those episodes I got all angry and had to do some writing about it. As much as I want Craig and Ellie to hook up, get married, have babies and live happily ever after, I'm sick of poor Ellie having to pick up the pieces after him. Oh geez, I'm in a state of confusion about where my feeling lie regarding their relationship..._

_But! Did anyone else just flat out giggle at that adorable face Ellie made when Craig told her he loved her? It was so innocent, so blissful, so perfect! What an amazing kiss! And the whole "don't make me say it" Ahh, what a perfect way to sum up her their relationship! Loved it! So why did Craig have to go and fuck it all up! Arg, again with my current love/hate of those two!_

_Enough with my ranting and on with story though. Its kind weird, and I guess I must be kinda weird as well, because I am finding myself beginning a number of my stories with that same sort of warning. Oh well... Not a fluffy piece, lets just leave it at that. I guess it is kind of a song fic, but not really. I dunno, I've never written one of those before. I don't own Degrassi, enjoy!_

* * *

_**This is the last straw, she sang,**_

It's the first thing I do after I leave him at the airport.

I'm on E but I don't stop for gas.

I told Marco I would call him but I don't touch my phone.

I've cried all my make-up off but I don't look in the mirror.

I just drive.

Drive and drive and drive until I am at Jesse's apartment.

And then I have sex with him.

I let myself in with the spare key he gave me and drop it carelessly on the floor when I enter, slamming the door shut behind me. Slam it hard. Slam it as if I am trying to close the door on all the shit that has happened since I first when to Joey's house for help "re-stringing a guitar" on Ashley's orders, slam it as if I can shut Craig Manning out my life that easily. As if anything with Craig has ever been easy.

The thin walls shake from the force of the impact, and an article Jesse has framed and hung on his wall comes crashing down, the glass shattering with a piercing crash at my feet. There are shards everywhere, gleaming with dangerous allure and threatening to stay embedded in the flooring long after Jesse had scrounged around on his hands and knees hunting them out. Damn it, Jesse loved that article. But I don't care.

I just don't fucking care anymore.

Where the _hell_ has caring ever got me?

Jesse comes out of his kitchen at my racket, wiping his hands off on a green dishtowel absentmindedly with a sly smile playing at his lips and his eyebrows arched perplexedly. One look at me, at my red, swollen, mascara-stained face, though, and his bewilderment is replaced by alarm. He casts the towel aside and comes towards me, arms extended.

"Ellie, baby, what hap-" he murmurs as he nears me, but I cut him off with a rough kiss, biting his lower lip and pulling the back of his head down to me forcefully.

"Wha-" he begins again, pulling away slightly breathless.

"Shut up. Please just shut the hell up." I growl, yanking his belt off with trembling fingers and flinging it behind us. "I don't want to talk, I don't want to say anything, I just want to fuck."

_**And I wont wait for you forever,**_

And his eyes widen then, but I can't tell because mine have closed. I capture his mouth once more, and at first he is hesitant, but soon the testosterone kicks in and he is shoving his tongue down my throat and helping me undress the both of us. Once his jeans are in puddle on the floor and my shirt has been flung over my head, I push him in the direction of his bedroom, my brain screaming "THIS IS IT!" at me, but I don't want to think, just like I don't want to talk, and so I kiss him harder and pull him against me in the doorway. I grab the material of his tee shirt and tear it off of him, scratching his back a bit roughly with my fingernails as I go, and he grin a little at my "enthusiasm." But I'm not enthusiastic. I just want to get this over with.

The _fuck_ over with, damnit.

And so I pull him out of his boxers.

And I pull my skirt up around my waist.

And I push our bodies so close together that there is hardly an inch of us that isn't touching.

But Jesse must be feeling a bit dense today, because he doesn't seem to have gotten my point from earlier. He's hoisting me up around his waist and I'm wrapping my legs around him, and for some _fucking _reason he opens his mouth to talk. His breath comes out in shallow pants, and he asks that stupid obligatory sex question for which everyone knows there is only one truly acceptable answer.

"Ellie, are you sure-"

He shuts up when I slide down on him though. His mouth stays open like some sort of stupid gaping fish, but his eyes snap shut and I grit my teeth. Because it hurts. Oh God, it hurts, and I almost smile.

At least now I won't have to cut when we're finished.

_**While you run around like JFK,**_

And so I lose my virginity to my editor pressed up against the doorway to his bedroom. The wood digging into my bare back, my skirt bunched uncomfortably around my middle, my feet awkwardly cumbersome from the boots I'm still wearing, and my heart in bits and pieces like the broken picture frame in the entry hall. And so while Jesse moans and grunts and makes animalistic noises which would nauseate me if I were listening to him, I start to cry.

I keep it quiet so he won't notice me, but even if he did it's nothing exceptional for a girl to cry about her first time. Chalk it up to hormones or pain or love or any of that bullshit, I'll just tell him that I can't believe this is actually happening. Or whatever.

Because this has nothing to do with Jesse.

This...this sex, this love-making, this coitus, this consummation, this act, this grunting and groaning and sweating and writhing hasn't a damn thing to do with Jesse except for the fact that he is here.

He's here and Craig isn't.

Fuck Craig. By fucking Jesse.

_**He watched that poor girl waste the best years of her life,**_

So when he moans obscenely and collapses against me, pinning my body between the doorway and his own sticky frame, I wipe my eyes and untangle myself from him. I push him off of me and slip away, pulling my skirt back down and walking back to the front of the apartment to collect my skirt. My boots clomp loudly on the cheap flooring and resonate through the now silent apartment.

Jesse materializes a few moments later as I am picking my keys up off of the ground where I dropped them. Other than his current lack of clothing, he is looking just as perplexed as he did when I first arrived. More so really, as he moves toward me groggily as if in a daze.

"Ellie...what the hell?"

"You were right about Craig," I state bluntly, staring him down indifferently as though we weren't just screwing passionately (at least for him) up against his wall.

""Craig?" he spits out, and I can see the anger beginning to build in his eyes.

"Yeah, Craig. Bye Jesse." I say flatly as I turn to leave, but he cuts me off swiftly, moving in front of me to block the door with his body.

"Bye? Fuck no Ellie, where are you going, to see _him_?"

"Craig's in _rehab_, Jesse. I just said that you were right about him, okay? He _was_ doing coke, you happy now?" I shoot back with a rising, quavering voice. "Look, I'm sorry about _this_, but it's something I had to do. When I left him at the airport... I realized that he has taken everything else away from me, and for some reason I guess I have subconsciously been waiting for him to take this too. But he can't. Not now."

The anger has drained out of his eyes and now they cloud with concern. He's worried about me and I hate him for it. He starts to speak but I cut him off. I don't want to hear words of comfort. I want to finish this.

**_And I'll be damned if I am going out,_**

"I've been using you Jesse, and I'm sorry. In a way you were just a stand-in for me to preoccupy myself while I waited for him. I _tried_ to tell myself I was through with him, and I _tried_ to let myself love you, and maybe I thought that having sex with you would sever my final tie with him and make me feel that way about you but it hasn't. But it has done something. I'm not wait any longer Jesse, not for him, not for you, not for anyone. So goodbye. And I'm sorry. For everything.

He doesn't try to stop me this time as I push my way past him I step outside and the cold air hits me cruelly, freezing the tears on my cheeks and whipping at my unsteady legs. It pulls at my clothes as it swirls around me, pulling me away from here. Pulling me towards him.

But I turn to face the bitter iciness, walking against the wind as I head towards my car. I climb inside, put the key in the ignition with unsteady hands, and pull away from the curb without waiting for the heater to warm up.

I'm sick of waiting.

Where the hell has waiting ever got me?

_**I will not go out that way.**_

* * *

_So...whatcha think? Werid? Icky? Stupid? _

_The song is "Last Straw" by Jack's Mannequin, and I don't own that either._


End file.
